


The Sum of the Parts

by devra, thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Smarm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-17
Updated: 2006-03-17
Packaged: 2019-02-02 03:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12719166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devra/pseuds/devra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: First persons' POV of the fallout of a mission gone wrong, with the aide of one of the five senses to assist in their viewpoints.





	The Sum of the Parts

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

TASTE:

I rest my forehead on the cool glass of the window that overlooks the gateroom. I'm too old for this, feeling every year of my 4 plus decades. Half of my team, my family, is still on that planet. I grimace as my stomach constricts painfully, and my throat burns with the vile taste of acid and bile. I swallow convulsively, not wanting to make a mess of the General's pristine floor. From my perch, I watch the MALP roll up the ramp, disappearing through the event horizon, the ground crew and the General standing at some weird attention posture.

In my imagination, I pound on this glass, shattering it so shards litter both the gateroom and briefing room floor. I scream at the General, telling him to send me through, not some shit ass piece of equipment. I need to go... I need to assess the situation... I need to make sure my teammates are still breathing. But in reality, that is not going to happen and I raise my hands up to massage my temples. I close my eyes, feeling a headache approaching fast.

This isn't any good. I need a drink, a cup of coffee, an aspirin... I need my team with me. The accusing eye of the Stargate glowers at me, making my heart pound, bringing sweat to my forehead. Down below, Hammond is issuing orders and stops to look up at me. His glance is filled with patience and understanding. Emotions I so do not deserve. I pivot around so fast my feet become entangled and, grabbing onto the credenza, I catch myself before falling. I right myself, embarrassed even though no one is witness to my clumsiness.

Hammond had asked me to, no, *ordered* me to wait here for him in this room, wanting to bear witness to the story of why only two members of SG1 returned. I can't though, I can't wait. I am consumed with the desire to lay eyes on the lone teammate that accompanied me through the gate. I assure myself that the General will understand, and make haste to the infirmary.

Standing outside the infirmary entranceway, it is impossible for me to step over the threshold. How can I tell this injured teammate that we... I shake my head in disgust, that *I* left two members of SG1 behind. The team that we had just worked so hard to put back together. I can't even bring myself to whisper the word that is flitting through my mind.

I start as someone gently touches my arm. Turning, I find myself looking down at our CMO. The doc's eyes are pinched and drawn, and I cringe as more guilt assuages my psyche. Both the General and Fraiser were going off duty when the klaxons announcing our unscheduled arrival forced their change of plans. Being the professional that she is, her concern is for her patient and her departure for home and her child will have to be postponed yet again.

"He'll be okay. Go in and see him. Talk with him." She rubs my upper arm in a gesture of familiarity. Trying to temper the guilt she is well aware I am feeling, Janet continues with, "Thank you for bringing him back when you did. Your fast thinking probably saved his life," the unspoken words being that I chose one teammate over two others left across the universe. "I'm going to the Genera,l now, to let him know of the details. I'll tell him you're here."

I grant her a grimace, hoping that she will mistake it for a smile. "Thanks...Janet." I don't usually address her by first name, trusting that she will understand that it is issued as a form of "thank you" for the person she is.

She rewards me with a full smile and a stern warning, complete with wagging finger. I issue a short laugh as Janet tells me to report to the infirmary for a full physical after my debriefing with the General; not the precursory one that was given when I brought my injured teammate in.

I shake my head as I watch her depart, saddened because she really cares for us more than she should. That she always knew what took me so long to realize; that we were family.

I run my fingers through my hair, straighten my shoulders and go in to sit by my teammate.

I sigh loudly, wishing for something else to sit on besides this plastic, hard-back chair. As I lower myself onto the hard plastic, I am glad in a way, letting this inanimate object be used as a reminder of the penance I deserve to make for what occurred on the plant. When Daniel lies in the infirmary, I laugh, joke, plead and generally chide him about whichever of his behaviors placed him in this bed yet again. But this isn't Daniel. This is Teal'c, whose behavior didn't place him in this bed... in this infirmary... minus two teammates. It was mine, his commanding officer, the person who he trusted. My dereliction of duty nearly cost Teal'c his life. I am speechless, my mouth dry in anticipation of what needs to be said should he awaken.

My eyes search out the wall clock and I experience a surge of anger that I can almost taste with Hammond's procrastination in making a decision to allow myself and another SG team to attempt an SAR. I know Hammond is erring on the side of caution... that's is what makes him the good commander that he is. He is well aware of what's at stake and refuses to risk another team plus me to locate Daniel and Carter.

I remove myself from the general vicinity of Teal'c's bed while the nurse check's his vitals. She reiterates what Janet said and then leaves me alone with him. I step up to the bed, placing my hand on the bed rail, and I am hit by an acute wave of nausea as my breakfast attempts a reappearance. I swallow, screw my eyes shut, and pray not to lose a meal on the infirmary floor. A layer of sweat is my reward, but I am the victor, the breakfast returns from whence it came, leaving that all too familiar bitter taste in my mouth. As I take in his unconscious form, I am grateful that the blood has been cleaned from his scalp but the bruising under his eye is still visible in the harsh lights of the infirmary. "Come on, Junior, do your stuff," I whisper. I don't know why I am using such a hushed tone, there is no one here to listen. I go to touch his hand in comfort, then stop myself. This is not Daniel... this is Teal'c and that is reason enough to withdraw my hand.

I shove my hands in my pockets and my right hand makes contact with an unfamiliar object. I pull it out to examine it, and before I can stop myself, a smile appears on my face. I lower my body onto the chair, sharing my remembrance of the object with Teal'c.

"Remember, Teal'c?" I say, laying the tinfoil-wrapped object on my lap. "So far, I would say this one was the winner. True to form for Daniel, the nutritional content may have been lacking...but it made up for it in taste."

I recline on the chair, opening the tinfoil and recalling how a single conversation brought this about. One morning, a few weeks ago, following our disastrous encounter with the aliens with the homemade bombs, Daniel and Carter began a conversation in the commissary regarding team morale and MREs. Known for fulfilling every vitamin requirement under the sun... Daniel and Carter had discussed that the majority of time the MREs were never finished because of their "taste like chicken" quality. Therefore, the person who ate the MRE, never received the full nutritional value, the garbage did, and then you had teams who were unhappy and short tempered because of hunger. I snort, remembering our scientists' challenge to each other. To come up with a meal that could withstand gate travel, that tasted good, could be eaten in a hurry and had some possible nutritional value.

"Thank goodness Daniel had brought power bars and candy after Carter's first attempt." Jack took a bite of the sandwich that lay in the tinfoil on this lap. "Though, Carter got a good laugh out of Daniel's try on our next mission to Pxwhatever... did I ever thank you for those extra MREs?"

Getting up... I search the infirmary for something to drink. The sandwich really warrants a glass of milk, but I will have to settle for some water. I sit again and hold the sandwich in the air to drive home my point. "Carter's next one wasn't bad, but not worthy of winning the challenge... don't you agree? But this," and I move the sandwich back and forth... "This is the winner."

Taking another bite I remember sitting around the campfire before calamity struck. Daniel handed out tin foil packages to each of us.

"A sandwich, Daniel?" I remember asking.

"Ah, Jack... not just any sandwich." He opened his packet with gusto and took a bite. A smile formed on his face. "Beat this one, Sam."

Having the gauntlet suitably slapped across her face, she riped the tinfoil and took a bite of the sandwich. "Ah ha... gotcha!" Daniel cried, as a look of sheer ecstasy developed on Carter's face.

"Oh my God, Daniel. My mother used to make these all the time... I loved them."

Daniel's face fell, thinking that he had tread on Carter's nightmares, but she was quick to reassure him that this isn't so. Teal'c took the sandwich out and examined it from all sides. Daniel leaned forward and pushed his hand towards his mouth. "Teal'c, believe me... you will enjoy it."

With raised eyebrows and doubt apparent on his face, Teal'c took his first bite. A rare look of surprise hijacked his features. "I am sorry to say it, MajorCarter, but DanielJackson has won."

I can remember my first bite into the sandwich as memories of childhood, both mine and Charlie's, assaulted me. "Daniel?"

"You want my secret Jack?"

"I can tell you... marshmallow fluff and that chocolate spread thing..."

"Nutmella, yup... fresh bread. The best. Comfort food, Sam."

Talking with her mouth full, Carter countered with the no nutritional value crap, but was quickly silenced by Teal'c's look and Daniel's comment. "Actually, I read the label Sam, and I beg to differ."

"Are there others of this kind in your carryall, DanielJackson?"

"Sure Teal'c," he reached in and threw a sandwich to Teal'c. He also pulled out four plastic cups from his knapsack, and proceeded to turn his back on us.

"Daniel?"

"Just be patient, Jack."

With a smile, Daniel turned back around and handed me a plastic orange cup of what looked like chocolate milk. I tasted it; a weak facsimile, but the idea was still there. Before I could even ask, Daniel held up his canteen. Powdered milk and Hershey's chocolate powder. I shook my head, aware that our archeologist would be on a perpetual sugar high and sleeping would not be in his future for this evening.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I acknowledge there had been no sleeping... but not because of sugar intake. I wipe my eyes, thinking how tired I am, and finish my sandwich, relishing the taste as I slowly chew it, savoring each bite.

Fraiser returns, informing me that the General would like to see me now. I stretch and contemplate throwing the tinfoil into the garbage... but think better of it and return it to my pocket for safekeeping... to remember.

I wait a few moments while she examines Teal'c.

"His symbiote is taking care of the damage. He'll be fine, Colonel." She reminds me to visit the infirmary after the debriefing.

The sooner this is completed, the better. I am anxious to proceed back to the planet. I had given the General a quick report when I returned with Teal'c, but it is now time for the full debriefing. I wipe my damp hands on my pants and knock on his door. Even before I have stepped into the room, the klaxons are sounding. I turn and run for the control room in time to hear the words, "Its SG1's code, sir."

I scream to open the iris, even before Hammond. Siler looks to Hammond for confirmation and Hammond nods his head. I am down the steps and into the gate room as Hammond gives the request for a medical team. I have arrived, breathless and before the iris is fully opened. I watch the horizon expectantly until I see it waver.

Daniel staggers through the event horizon, carrying the unconscious, bloody body... body? of Carter. I can see from my vantage point, that he himself is injured. He falls to his knees, still clutching Carter to his chest. I run up the ramp and kneel facing Daniel, attempting to extricate Carter from his grasp. He is not forthcoming and refuses to hand Carter to me. I mutter nonsensical placating words to him, that it's imperative that he allows me to assess Carter's condition. Daniel loosens his grip and lays her gently on the metal ramp. His eyes register confusion as he looks down at Carter and then initiates eye contact with me.

I swallow audibly, the taste of Daniel's sandwich transforming to include the word I couldn't utter, the one that had been flitting through my mind since my return. The wonderful taste of Daniel's sandwich has been replaced by the awful taste of failure as I look down at my two injured teammates.

* * *

SMELL:

Daniel Jackson has a theory that that all hospitals share a particular odor, which is why most people are not fond of them. In my limited experience, I have come to agree with him.

And as I lie here in the infirmary, I find my experience is broadening. Regrettably, I am yet unable to open my eyes, to move, to make any effort to comfort O'Neill, seated beside me. My distaste for my situation grows moment by moment, however, there is little I can do to change it. I have little to do but rest, as I know I should, to regain my strength, allow my symbiote to heal me. Only then, may I be of adequate assistance to O'Neill in retrieving our fallen comrades.

So I calm my mind. I am anxious to perform kel-no-reem and assist my symbiote in its task, however, I find myself compelled to remain as lucid as I am. I wish to continue feeling alive, however limited. I wish to remain in O'Neill's presence for as long as I can, awaiting word, awaiting any news of our friends' fates. I must occupy myself.

I meditate on Daniel Jackson and Major Carter. I vaguely remember breathing the metallic, stinging odor of blood mixing into the fertile soil of the planet. The breeze carrying the unmistakable smell of trees and leaves picking up the scent of life draining from us.

And I wonder if that breeze would now be carrying the smell of their demise. The smell of decay and death. Or do they yet live, waiting for us to bring them home?

Home to the safety and comfort of the infirmary. To the familiarity of the recycled air of the mountain. Home to wake here, knowing where they are because of the disinfectant in the air, the smell of O'Neill's aftershave as he unwaveringly carries on his vigil.

As I finally allow myself to attain kel-no-reem, I may only continue to hope for the safety of Daniel Jackson and Major Carter, and the patience and wisdom of O'Neill in finding them.

* * *

TOUCH:

I become aware of two feelings simultaneously. The first is that I am going to be violently ill, and the second is I'm going to be violently ill... NOW!

I roll to my side and manage to miss throwing up on myself... on the bed rolls. *What bedrolls?* my mind registers... *what tents?* I turn on my back, opening the eyes I wasn't even aware I had shut. Shock runs through my body as I become aware of the night sky directly overhead... no tent. I gingerly extend my arms on either side of me touching... dirt, leaves, ground cover? No sleeping bags?

I hurt... I don't think there is place on my body that doesn't ache. Why? Oh God, it hurts thinking of why I hurt. Permitting my eyes to drift closed, I search for the memories that would explain my current situation. The pain in my ribs, as well as my head, prohibit this.

I cautiously lift my body onto my hands and knees. I need to take deep breaths to ward off the approaching nausea, but the ache... no I correct myself, make that *pain*, by my left rib cage prevents this. A new symptom of dizziness forces me to hang my head between my locked arms. Drops of warm fluid touch my right hand and the first thought that comes to mind is rain. That's all I need, dazed, confused, in pain... and wet. I move to a sitting position... let's see... if I hold my arm against the ribcage... sorta like that... it feels a little better. I am too exhausted to do anything but sit in anticipation of the downpour... there is none?

The moonlight enhances my ability to see. Subconsciously, I push my glasses, that have gone the way of the tent and bedroll, up my nose. My hand returns from my face wet and sticky and I bring it directly in front of my face squinting. Rain would've been better... as I gently touch my head, I become aware that the fluid that dripped onto my hand was blood... my blood. Oh god...rain would have been better when I see just how *much* of my hand is covered in blood after its contact with my head.

I don't know which frightens me more, the fact that I am bleeding, the fact that I have no idea how I got where I am, or how I ended up in this situation or that I am alone. I bring forth an Abydonian curse as I stagger to a standing position, using a nearby tree for support. I'm not alone... I don't know how I know this, but with sudden clarity I know... I am positive that Sam is here with me and that Jack and Teal'c are not.

I open my mouth to scream her name, slamming it shut before I can make a sound. Somewhere in my befuddled mind I can recall a lecture Jack gave to me regarding the inadvisability of giving away one's position. I think this is possibly one of those times he was making reference to. I need a point of reference, another one of Jack O'Neill's lessons, and turn 360 degrees and sight the top of the Stargate. I step back and proceed to fall, painfully, flat on my ass... slamming my head into the trunk of a tree.

I awake as this planet's sun is rising, I can see the light through my closed lids. Hours. I have been unconscious for hours. A blossoming headache is to be added to my litany of complaints. I keep my eyes shut, too painful to my headache to let sunlight in. I lean forward, with the want of placing my hands on the ground to push my body upright. They encounter something else, not dirt, not consistent with the way a ground would feel, should feel. I know what it is... I'm afraid to open my eyes, to confirm my suspicions.

I call her name softly as I open my eyes. She has dried blood in her hair and her face and neck are mottled with bruises. I maneuver to kneel by her head. I place a shaky hand by her pressure point, finding an erratic pulse. I touch her skin, cold... shock. I need to get her home now. Her injuries appear to be numerous, but I have neither my pack nor water to treat and clean them.

For the briefest of moments I contemplate heading back to camp, for supplies. I cannot risk making the trip with Sam, a trip that may take us further from the stargate. In concentration, I manage to picture our camp on this planet. There was no visible Stargate in our vicinity. To go back to camp would mean backtracking before heading forward. I make my decision.

I lean forward, smoothing her hair away from her face. "I'm sorry, Sam." I whisper, picking her up and cradling her in my arms. Sam is not heavy, but she is tall, and it will be an awkward, uncomfortable walk back to the Stargate. I add painful to the list as I feel my broken ribs grind together under the pressure.

'One foot in front of the other' becomes my mantra on the walk back to the gate. I've lost count how long I was walking. Why didn't we leave last night? I can't remember the reason. I cannot remember the reason why Sam and I are like this. Alone. She moans in my arms. I don't want her to wake, but I am glad of the sounds of life from her. I lean my head forward and touch my lips to her forehead, apologizing for hurting her. At the outset, I would talk to her as I walked, now talking has become painful, and the only thing I can manage to do is stay upright.

One foot in front of the other, stay upright and walk. The sun is high overhead at this point, I'm freezing, teeth chattering... my only thought is getting Sam to the gate... she needs to be home. Janet needs to see her. Sam is waking up and her movement while I am holding her makes my struggle to stay standing harder. Please Sam... just a little longer, I beg her. I touch my cheek against her forehead. Her coolness is as refreshing as spring water against my hot skin.

One foot in front of the other, stay upright, walk... we need water... another thought to my mantra. One foot in front of the other, stay upright, walk, water. I feel a cough building in my chest. Foot, upright, walk, water... do not cough. Foot, upright, walk, water, no cough.

My forward motion is suddenly stopped by a barrier. I open my eyes. I was walking with them closed? The DHD... I've walked into the DHD. We made it, Sam. I place her gently by the base and use it to pull myself to a standing position. It takes a moment for my arms to straighten... they are bent in the position from holding Sam for so long. I touch the cool glyphs on the DHD as I force my eyes to focus. I punch the symbols slowly and relish the smoothness of the middle crystal under my fingers before hitting it. Thankfully, the GDO is still on my wrist. I berate myself for never even checking until now, and I squint to make the numbers appear clearly. I send our signal home. I touch her head, smoothing her hair. "Come on, Sam," I whisper as I pick her up... "Let's go home."

Sam struggles against being moved, her hands clawing at my injured ribs, touching and pulling at my shirt. A red hot pain shoots up my side and I fall to my knees, the cough that had threatened making an appearance. Resting my forehead on the steps of the Stargate, I tent my body over Sam. I've failed, these last three steps are impossible for me to climb, as long, if not longer than this trek to arrive at this destination.

I feel something brush my cheek, bringing a grimace to my face. Any touching of my body sends shock waves of pain. The soft touch occurs again, and I slowly open my eyes. Sam's hand. Her eyes are pain-filled and unfocused... but they are open.

I will not fail. This is my family I hold in my arms... and death has touched too many of them already. Struggling to my feet, I enter the event horizon.

* * *

SOUND:

I think I'm dreaming. I *hope* I'm dreaming. I can't really see anything... I think I opened my eyes, but nothing really came of it except an explosion in my skull. So, I closed them again.

Someone is holding me close. I can hear them breathing into my ear. Then a choked sob. Daniel. God, how bad is it? There's a clanging just below me and a few yards away. Metal. We're on metal. The ramp? We're in the Gateroom.

"Daniel? Daniel! You okay? Look at me, buddy. Come on. Daniel, she's hurt... you're hurt... you've got to let go, okay?" The Colonel is next to us, pulling me away from Daniel, but my keeper pulls me closer still, his breath quickening, echoing erratically in my ear.

The game of tug-of-war seems to be growing more urgent. The Colonel's voice is buzzing all around me. Daniel's breath beats out as clearly as my own heartbeat pulsing against my tender ribs, as the blood pummeling my eardrums.

Suddenly, there's a pressure on my chest, under my arm. As the Colonel tries again to pull me out of Daniel's grip, I hear a sickening crunch followed by an agonized, staccato scream. In an instant, the world is dead silent and still.

Daniel doesn't breathe. The Colonel doesn't breathe. I don't breath.

Shit. I'm not breathing. That scream came from me and that crunch was my ribs buckling under pressure. For a split second, I open my eyes in panic, only to squeeze them shut again, blinded. I struggle for the small trickle of air that finally reaches my lungs and clutch madly at both Daniel and the Colonel. They clutch back, trying to help me breathe.

"Jesus! Get the medics down here, NOW!" the Colonel shouts. His voice cracks slightly and I can tell he's afraid. I don't need to see his face to know what he's feeling. In those few words, I know all I need to. He blames himself. He thinks he's killed me.

Well, that just won't stand.

"Chur-nl," I croak, and immediately get a choked "Sam" and an urgent "Carter" in response.

And then, the blast door whirrs open and there's a symphony of shuffling feet, Janet's heels clicking, the wheels of the gurneys squeaking ever so slightly.

"Oh, thank God." Daniel. Relief. Exhaustion.

"Shh... Carter, relax. Calm down and just try to breathe, okay? Doc's here, now. Everything's gonna be fine." The Colonel. Worry. Anxiety.

"Colonel, please back away. They need room. We're gonna need both stretchers, here! And get me an IV drip and some morphine!" Janet. Authority. Confidence.

For a second, I do relax. I calm down, concentrating on sucking air into my lungs, trusting in my friends... my friends! Teal'c! God, where's Teal'c! Sure, he doesn't talk much, but if he was here, I would know it.

I tense up again, my fingers desperately searching for the comforting presence of Daniel and the Colonel. I need to know!

"Til-k?" I say, as loudly as I possibly can. I mean to shout, but the energy just isn't there. The mangled word brushes lightly across my lips, and I don't think anyone's heard me. Then, through the harried voices and sounds of machinery and clicking heels against metal grate, I hear Daniel gasp sharply.

"Teal'c! God, Jack! What happened to Teal'c? Is he okay? Is he-" The Colonel shushes him gently.

I think the Colonel is smiling. "He's fine, guys. He's in the infirmary, but Junior's taking care of him." He pauses, then moves and directs his voice over his shoulder. It reverberates throughout the cavernous room. "Hey, Doc? Ya think we could speed this up at all?"

Janet click-click, click-clicks up the ramp again and crouches down beside me and Daniel, gently elbowing the Colonel away.

"I didn't want to move them without painkillers, Colonel. Sam, I'm going to inject you with some morphine, okay? Then we'll get you down to the infirmary and into a nice, comfy bed," Janet says, soothingly. She swabs the patch of skin inside my elbow, and then expertly slips a needle into my vein. Almost immediately, I feel increasingly numb and ready to fall asleep, as my limbs slowly begin to float away.

Off in the distance, Janet tells Daniel that it's his turn, and at the same moment, I feel myself lifting off the ramp, flying onto the waiting stretcher. And then, I'm rolling... the squeaks are beneath me, now, sounding in time with the pulse in my ears, with Janet's click-clicks and the Colonel's stomp-shuffle.

A lullaby, rocking me to sleep.

* * *

SIGHT:

"Tonight's a school night." I bask in the sound of the argument from my teenager. The normalcy of it reminds of life outside of this mountain. My parental sigh travels across the telephone wire, point taken.

My charge nurse enters my office waving two folders at me. Soundlessly, she whispers, "Blood work." I extend my arm, accepting the proffered documents, smile, and watch her depart.

I tell Cassie, "Thank you," when she reads between the lines of my reason for staying. She asks and I answer truthfully. After a moment, she tells me that she loves me. I echo the sentiments promising I will call her if need be.

I bow my head, massage my temples as I study the numbers in these two folders. A small sound of surprise escapes my lips, as a steaming hot cup of coffee appears under my nose.

"Hello, Colonel," I say, taking a short break. He stands before me, expectantly. I raise my cup. "Thank you," I add.

"You looked like you could use it."

Taking a deep drink, savoring in the caffeine, I motion to the chair in front of my desk. He sits, waiting for me to speak. For once, I cannot give him what he wants to hear. My silence is his answer. His unwavering stare meets my own and I can see he knows. I see he wants me to say it.

"I don't know."

"Oh..." He glances towards the folders in front of me.

I shake my head. "Nothing we don't already know. No change."

I wish I could give him something more than that, but then I would be lying and he doesn't deserve that.

I see through the man who sits before me. This military man, the second-in-command of this facility. One of the most respected, hard-assed men on this base. But not at the moment... that's not who I see. I see a man who is grasping at straws, wanting this doctor to give him reassurance that his family will be fine. I see a man, strong in resolve, but one step away from being shattered if one of those people in bed does not pull through the night. Honestly, the sight of this man frightens me more than "Colonel O'Neill."

I push the chair away from the desk, finishing the coffee. I grab the folders off the desk. "I need to see the General." He nods his head, and I see a little of the "Colonel O'Neill" mask slipping back into place. He remains seated as I leave, but I know he will head for the infirmary, to sit vigil for as long need be.

I want to see the General, but not for an update... there is no change, like I told the Colonel... A shot from the bottle of Southern Comfort in his right hand drawer is drawing me like a bee to honey.

I realize that I needed to share with someone more than I needed a shot of that liquor. I am close to SG1, closer than I should be, and I don't want to be a doctor. I want to keep vigil with the Colonel for my family. The General understands, and lets me cry and rant, before it's time for my "Doctor Fraiser" mask to go into place and I have to return to the infirmary.

The lights are turned down low, the sight of the readouts on the monitors as I check them comforting. Teal'c is resting comfortably, Junior has begun his healing. Sam's breathing is better. I adjust her oxygen intake, and make a note in the chart regarding her decreased oxygen requirement. I adjust the blanket around her before stepping over to the next bed. Daniel's fever is down and he tries to bat my hand away when I use the dreaded penlight. A good sign, a change, one I can tell the Colonel.

The Colonel has taken a chair and placed it against the wall so he has a view of all three of the beds. His arms are folded across his chest, legs are stretched out, head tilted uncomfortably back, and he's snoring loudly. A comforting sound for the people with him. When he awakes, I will tell him of all the changes. Good news.

The Colonel has learned a lesson. A hard way to learn, but one that will stay with him always. I know this because I have seen how he looks at each of his team, and the words of encouragement he says to them, here in the infirmary, as he touches them. I have seen him grimace at the taste as he drinks the bitter dregs of the bottom of the coffee pot so as not to leave their side to search for more. I have seen him cringe but stand stoically and withstand the horrific infirmary odors. He does this because a family is the sum of its parts, each one dependent on the other. And that is what SG1 is... a family.


End file.
